


odysseus blood

by pyrality



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Experimental, M/M, Parallel Universes, Relationship Study, Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, dh1 low chaos MOSTLY canon compliant, slowburn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 11:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14448798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrality/pseuds/pyrality
Summary: “How curious,” the Outsider remarks, sweeping his hand in a broad gesture, “that you might be granted the attention of such a fickle, elusive god, but you do not kneel, yield, or praise me.”“Am I supposed to?” Corvo asks. Oh, he is so treacherous, eyes dark and glimmering, he says, “I am not afraid of the ocean, your whales, or the otter black of your eyes.”And so, the Outsider falls in love with Corvo Attano immediately, the ground crumbling beneath his feet, the green of his eyes threatening to supercede the black.





	odysseus blood

**Author's Note:**

> and so i thought, what if corvo is not smitten with the outsider, but is unimpressed by him
> 
> this references [you must first create the universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12457764), my other corvosider fic, but you don't need to read you must first create the universe to understand what's going on here! this fic is standalone

Truth be told, Corvo Attano was not very interesting until circumstances made him interesting. His role as the Royal Protector is textbook— he is Jessamine’s bodyguard and he runs her most difficult and information-sensitive errands.

And the man is no heretic.

He lives _outside_ , if you will, of the realm the Outsider inhabits. He is not a witch or a rune carver, nor does he collect occultist relics or read through dusty tomes of sinister, dark magic. Corvo Attano has no space for the Outsider in his life.

Daud, however, creates a scene of chaos, displacement, power structures shifting, and in doing so, irrevocably changes Dunwall and Corvo Attano’s life with it.

He begins to see potential in Corvo as he watches the man weather all the abuse and pain the torturer can throw at him to make him confess to crimes he did not commit. There is fire in Corvo’s eyes as he stays silent, refusing to give in to Hiram Burrows’ demands.

Through dreams, the Outsider breathes the spirit of rebellion into the already discontent and in doing so, he creates the Loyalists. He gives Piero Joplin a touch of inspiration. And then he settles back to watch if Corvo will escape his fated death with just a prison key hidden in his food.

Corvo, by far, exceeds expectations. The Outsider is intrigued and he has not been intrigued in a very long time.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Most people are awed, reverent, or fearful when they first meet him.

“How curious,” the Outsider remarks finally, sweeping his hand in a broad gesture, “that you might be granted the attention of such a fickle, elusive god, but you do not kneel, yield, or praise me.”

“Am I supposed to?” Corvo asks. Oh, he is so treacherous, eyes dark and glimmering when he says, “I am not afraid of the ocean, your whales, or the otter black of your eyes.”

And so, the Outsider falls in love with Corvo Attano immediately, the ground crumbling beneath his feet, the green of his eyes threatening to supersede the black.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
He likes older men.

This, the Outsider has known for quite some time. It would be a century into his tenure as Keeper of the Void before he realized he always looked for interesting people, but he never looked necessarily for attractive ones. He comes to find older men more attractive, the ones in their early forties or fifties.

Corvo is thirty-nine when they first meet and really, the Outsider should have seen it coming, but it hits him a little too late that the man is _exactly_ his type. Brooding, laconic… handsome. He hates himself, sometimes, for how predictable he is.

So, he admits, he’s rather charmed by Corvo already. Their first meeting, Corvo is so brazen and unafraid and defiant. So proud. Then again, he is a skilled fighter and excellent at subterfuge. He is smart, quick on his feet. He has reason to be cocky.

The Outsider watches as Corvo slips through the cracks, a knife in the dark that he never actually bloodies, accomplishing everything with grace, subtlety, and efficiency. He presses the brand onto High Overseer Campbell’s skin, marks him a heretic. Delightful irony. Poetic justice in its own way.

The Outsider cannot appear here. It is too risky and he does not want to distract Corvo in the middle of his mission. There will be time to talk later, after he has returned to safety at the Houndpits Pub.

Corvo is thumbing over one of the runes he collected from Granny Rags in his room, sitting quietly on his bed when the Outsider decides to appear. He materializes in front of Corvo, floating an inch off the ground, his hands tucked behind his back. Corvo’s hair is damp from his bath and his sleep clothes smell faintly sweet from their rose-infused water wash.

“Hello, dear Corvo,” the Outsider says, tilting his head and smiling. “Congratulations. A successful mission well done, and you save two lives, Teague Martin’s and Geoff Curnow’s. And your target… you spare him? How interesting.”

Corvo stays silent, watching the Outsider with careful, distrustful eyes as he talks. Corvo sets the rune down next to him and leans forward, bracing his elbows against his thighs and folding his hands in front of him. He’s tense— like a coil wound too tight, like a bristling cat. Really, it’s almost cute. He’d probably find it more amusing if he wasn’t currently a little irritated by how unimpressed Corvo seems.

“You don’t trust me,” the Outsider says, clicking his tongue. He presses a hand to his chin thoughtfully, trying not to let his irritation show in his features. Wrinkles look so terrible on him, after all. “I don’t think you’re scared of me, but you’re awfully tense, my dear.”

“I know very little about you or what you want from me,” Corvo says mildly, tone a hint sarcastic.

“My, my,” the Outsider folds his hands behind his back, leaning forward, “The Abbey of the Everyman teach many different tales about me to scare the children and the devout. Do you not listen to them, Corvo?”

Corvo looks him right in the eyes, and the Outsider feels as though he sees straight through him. The scar on his neck burns suddenly and he feels the cold grip of stone around his real body in the Ritual Hold. It is as though he is laid bare before Corvo, as though the man can see who and what he really is beneath the obscuring fog and mist of the Void.

Corvo keeps his gaze trained on the Outsider’s own as he scrapes a blunt nail over the Mark. The sight of it sends a shock rushing down the Outsider’s spine.

“I’m not religious,” he says the words lowly, tongue curling around each syllable.

The Outsider smiles and rolls his shoulders, trying to not break his composed facade. “So it seems.” The whale god tilts his head. “Restless hands and roving feet… two strictures you have broken and will continue to break. You will trespass into the domain of the rich, wealthy, and corrupt with a savage blade to cut their sins from their dark hearts.”

“There is always another way,” Corvo says fiercely, surprising him. “It does not have to come to bloodshed.”

“They took everything away from you, Corvo,” the Outsider hisses, baring his sharp teeth, curling a hand around his own neck. “Wouldn’t you love to see them suffer? Struggling for breath, trying to contain their slit throat?” He drops his hand from his neck, tucking it back behind his back with a sharp smile. “You could have them screaming in fear and agony as you sank your blade into their heart. They would weep, knowing they have died with regrets, and so they will be condemned to an eternity of darkness in the abyss.”

“There remains other options,” Corvo says, resolute. There is no fear in his eyes.

“What _is_ your task, Corvo?” the Outsider counters, voice mock-sweet, “Is it to throw a city into chaos? Or is it to restore your daughter to the throne?”

“For all your words, I know you don’t like bloodshed either,” Corvo replies, startling him. He lowers his hand, fisting his Marked hand back into the sheets. “You find me interesting because I find another way. You will get your show, leviathan.”

The Outsider does not breathe because he is not alive, and yet he feels as though Corvo is a breath of fresh air.

  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
“You like him,” Vera says with a cackle. “I know. I’ve not seen him,” she continues, laughing to herself as she waves a hand over her blind eyes as a joke, “but I just know that he’s very handsome.”

The Outsider looks away. “He’s got nerve,” he says, playing for nonchalance. “Quiet. Mouthy when he does talk. I’ll have to do something about that.”

“Take away his voice for a spell, ooh that will spook him,” Vera suggests, waggling her fingers over her throat. “What a fright. Take away his hand for a short while. He’ll learn to fear and adore you.”

The Outsider does not think it will make a difference. Corvo does not fear him, and tormenting him with parlour tricks will do nothing more than annoy him. But he does admit it sounds fun. And so, the next time Corvo talks back at him, he puts a finger to his own lips, shushing him.

Corvo knows immediately what damage has been done. He touches his own throat, glaring at the Outsider. Instead of throwing his sword to the ground or making gestures in frustration, Corvo calmly sheaths his sword. He holds up his hands, making what seems like nonsensical gestures before the Outsider realizes he is using sign language. He watches as Corvo signs out his next sentence.

“ _This won’t stop me._ ”

And that’s true, isn’t it? The Outsider likes Corvo Attano because he is such a strangely unstoppable force, fiery, determined, and soft-hearted beneath it all. He is so different from all of his other Marked, who would cut their way to their goals, while Corvo practices subtlety and kindness— and it’s— it’s refreshing.

“Just a bit of fun,” the Outsider says mock-placatingly. He presses a finger to his own lips again, returning Corvo’s voice to him. “No need to look so grumpy, Corvo.”

Corvo still looks frustrated and most of all, unimpressed. The Outsider wants him for his irreverent, cocky, gruff demeanor. He is charmed.

“I found a diamond in the rough with you, didn’t I? Yes,” the Outsider says, reaching forward to place a finger beneath Corvo’s jaw. His skin prickles with Corvo’s slight stubble. “Odysseus blood. You can and will weather the ocean without yielding or breaking to it. The Odyssey— yours will come to a close successfully, my dear.”

Corvo turns his head away as he pushes the Outsider's hand aside. The Outsider is content to watch as he puts his mask back on and unsheathes his sword again.

“Be sure not to be too boring, Corvo. I’ll be watching.”

“You always are.”  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Corvo takes to his powers relatively quickly. It was amusing though, to watch how he fumbled with them at the start. Corvo would squat on one rooftop, carefully aiming his blink so he wouldn’t fall. He starts to get more comfortable with them after a mission spent getting used to them. He will not have enough time to truly master these powers in the short time span he has to complete his tasks. And for this excursion, Corvo is tired, running on little sleep and energy, and he is sloppy and impatient. He is going to rescue Emily from the Golden Cat and he cannot wait to see her again after nearly seven months now of separation.

He misses his blink, slipping on the still wet footing of the roof and tumbling down. He manages to blink again near the ground to lessen his fall damage, but it is loud, and he still stumbles when he hits the concrete. Corvo’s mask is knocked off from the force of the fall and the man is shaken, a sprained ankle at the least, his head rattling and his heart pulsing fast from the adrenaline.

A guard nearby is quick to respond to the noise, running into the alleyway and immediately swinging his sword at Corvo’s back while the man is still dazed and recovering.

The Outsider cannot abide this.

He finds himself materializing behind the attacking guard, fingers closing around a phantom sword borne of the Void. He stabs the guard in the shoulder, moving swiftly, calculations already in his head. Corvo turns his gaze up just as the guard falls over behind him, smoke instead of blood seeping out of an invisible wound.

Corvo stumbles to his feet and lunges for him almost immediately, fisting his hands into the Outsider’s jacket. He is angry. The Outsider’s first instinct is to pull them into the Void where they can talk, but it isn’t safe. The Void is a spiritual realm, meaning Corvo’s body will still be present in the real world, where he could be open to more threats. He cannot risk exposing Corvo to danger so he presses his finger to Corvo’s mouth, watches as his words escape his mouth in the form of soundless smoke.

“Breathe, Corvo. Your voice will carry here, and you are not yet free from danger,” he says softly.

Corvo looks furious, but he lets go of the Outsider to start signing. His signs are fast, aggressive, and angry.

“ _You did not have to kill him._ ”

“I didn’t, Corvo,” he replies, tucking his hands behind his back. He is grateful for his quick thinking. “Check for yourself.”

Corvo glares at him, suspicious, but he crouches down next to the body. He turns the guard’s face so he will not suffocate in the puddle. After that, he touches the guard’s shoulder only to find no wound. Then he reaches for his neck, where he will find a steady, rhythmic pulse. He looks up at the Outsider, still suspicious. Still crouched, he signs again.

“ _An illusion, leviathan?_ ”

“Not an illusion, Corvo,” the Outsider smiles, tilting his head. “I know how much you hate bloodshed.”

He holds the Outsider’s gaze for a short while before turning away to reach for his fallen mask. He secures it back onto his face and stands up before he faces the Outsider again. Corvo’s signs are slower now, no longer angry now that he’s had time to calm down.

“ _I thought you never personally intervened with or for your Marked._ ”

The Outsider wants to look away, but that would be showing... weakness. And he is a four thousand year old god. He is not _weak_. He instead keeps his hands tucked behind his back, pacing back and forth as he looks at Corvo. He calls forth the sounds of whales and the hiss of bonecharms under his footfalls. Corvo watches with wary eyes from beneath his mask.

“Oh, don’t mistake that for altruism, dear Corvo. I quite like you because unlike the rest of your Marked cohorts, you have proven… fascinating.” He holds out his closed fist, opening his fingers slowly to reveal a bonecharm in the palm of his hand. It floats up, hissing and glowing with energy. “Consider _this_ … a gift. This one _is_ altruism. But I trust you’ll make good use of it. You always do, don’t you?”

Corvo must touch the bonecharm before its boon will be revealed to him. He does so with clear suspicion, reaching out slowly to grasp the bonecharm. When his fingers graze the Outsider’s skin, he grants the man his voice back. Corvo breathes and the air turns into smoke as he inhales.

Corvo watches as the Outsider fades back into the Void. He turns over the bonecharm in his hand. It is a charm that grants him mana refund on nonlethal takedowns. He seems… pleased, the Outsider thinks as he pockets the charm.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The Outsider is busy with Delilah and Daud’s machinations for awhile. He watches as Daud scours through the slaughterhouse for his target, quiet as a mouse as usual, but this time, nonlethal. Daud does not kill, even though his blade is sharp as a razor’s edge.

He has long been bored of Daud and this newfound merciful behavior does not bring back any interest. He only feels disdain as he watches Daud go about his tasks. Really, he only contacted Daud again because the assassin is the only one fit to take on Delilah. Corvo is occupied, Granny Rags adores him but she does not obey him anymore, and his other Marked are too old or in other areas of the world.

The Outsider returns his attention to Corvo. He has since safely brought home Emily and then succeeded in kidnapping Sokolov. He is surprised to see too… Waverly Boyle. Instead of killing her or offering her to her stalker, Corvo made a different choice. The Loyalists are as surprised as he is. There’s something threateningly kind in his ribcage. Now the Houndpits Pub has Geoff Curnow, Emily Kaldwin, and Waverly Boyle in its rickety old rooms.

Corvo plays with Emily, indulging her in her tea party and drawing with her until Callista steals her away for her lessons. He then goes to spend time with Geoff Curnow on the waterfront, talking about what has changed since Jessamine died. For once, he seems relaxed, at ease.

“You look like you’re in good shape,” Geoff says softly, patting him on the back. “I was worried about you, knowing you were in Coldridge. But you seem to be doing just fine, and in better spirits too.”

Corvo smiles back, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “Yes. I feel much better now that Emily is safe.”

“Have you thought about what you will do after Emily is restored to the throne?”

Corvo looks at him, amused and puzzled, “What will I do other than be her Royal Protector?”

Geoff clears his throat, looking away, “I meant in your personal life, old friend.”

“Oh,” Corvo says warmly. There’s a fondness in his eyes when Geoff meets his gaze again, “I haven’t thought so far ahead yet. Perhaps it’s something we will be able to talk about more later.”

“I think I’d like that.”

Corvo smiles when Geoff squeezes his shoulder before turning to head back into the main yard towards the Pub. The Outsider feels a well of frustration inside of him, like water overflowing, about to burst. How does Corvo have time to fraternize with anyone when he has still a dangerous mission ahead of him in taking down the Lord Regent. Geoff Curnow is hardly the first. Lydia and Callista have looked at Corvo with interest before.

The Outsider decides this will not do.

He manifests a real body in Corvo’s bedroom in the attic but then finds himself restless as he sits on the edge of Corvo’s bed. What is he doing here? What does he want from the man anyway? He feels personally offended by Corvo choosing to flirt back with Geoff Curnow, even smile at him.

He hears a gasp and looks up, startled, to find Emily staring wide-eyed at him, her hands over her mouth. She points at him, scrunching her nose. “You’re that man from my nightmares!” she shouts, frowning. She puts her hands on her hips, looking upset and unimpressed. “Are you a witch?” she demands. “What are you doing here?”

The Outsider opens his mouth, closes it. He’s never been good with children.

“Emily?” Corvo enters the room, equally wide-eyed when his gaze falls upon the Outsider. He looks at him accusingly and then at Emily. “I— Em, what are you doing up here?”

Emily pouts, folding her arms across her chest. “I was playing hide and seek with Callista! And I wanted to give you something.”

She shoots the Outsider another suspicious look before she runs over to Corvo, hugging his leg and pulling out a rune from her little side pouch.

“I found it while digging in the backyard and I thought it would give me good luck. I slept with it under my pillow and it gave me nightmares of that man,” she says, shoving the rune at Corvo with one hand and pointing at the Outsider with the other one. “Do you see him too?”

“Yes,” Corvo says, and his voice is tight, his eyes furious when he looks over at the Outsider. He smiles when he looks back down at Emily. He takes the rune gently from her hand and pockets it. “Thank you. I’ll keep this. Will you go downstairs? Callista is very worried about you.”

Emily huffs but nods and hugs Corvo again. She looks back at the Outsider, her eyes bright, piercing. “The others won’t believe me if I tell them about you, will they?”

Before either Corvo or the Outsider can answer, she runs out of his room and down the stairs.

“Do you mind explaining yourself?” Corvo growls immediately as soon as the soft pitter patter of Emily’s footsteps fades into the distance. “Giving my daughter a rune? Haunting her nightmares?”

The Outsider feels even more put on the defensive than before. He refuses to move from Corvo’s bed and give up ground. He folds his legs and crosses his arms stubbornly. “You heard her, she found the rune from digging around. I certainly did not lead her to it. As for her dreams, people dream of me all the time. Children are more susceptible to the influence of the Void. I did not visit her personally.”

Corvo glances behind him at the stairwell before stepping fully into his attic bedroom and closing the door behind him. “Why are you here?”

The Outsider scoffs, turning up his nose at him. “It is not as though the Loyalists do not know you are a heretic. After all, like an absolute fool, you wear my Mark on your bare skin, without even thinking to conceal it.”

Corvo’s mouth twitches downwards, brow furrowing. “That does not explain why you are here.”

The Outsider huffs, uncrossing his arms to put his hands on the bed, tapping his fingers along the edge of the mattress. “You are a wanted man across all of Dunwall with those who would do you harm seeking for you around every corner. Yet you have time to… relax? Fraternize even?”

Corvo stares at him, looking surprised before he sighs and shakes his head, pressing a hand to his forehead. “So you are bored. You are bored I have not immediately taken off to do my next mission.”

“That’s not it—”

“Then what is it?” Corvo paces closer, crowds the Outsider. He puts his hands down on either side of the Outsider’s waist, leaning down right in front of his face. “You are constantly interfering.”

The Outsider feels the weight of Corvo’s expectant gaze on him, feels the man’s warm breath ghosting along his own jaw. If he pulls away, it would be the same as showing weakness. And he is not weak. He is a god. But moving closer, that would be… _wanting_. And as much as he likes Corvo, is charmed by him; he should not want a human. That would be pointless. That would go nowhere. He wants anyway.

(The Cultists did not take away his capacity to feel, and sometimes, he wishes they did.)

“Do you like Geoff Curnow?” he asks, keeping his voice steady as he presses a hand to Corvo’s chest. He can feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his skin through his clothes. “Do you want to take him to bed?”

Corvo is clearly surprised by the direction the conversation has taken, but he quickly recovers.

“Is _that_ what this is about?” Corvo has the audacity to _smirk_ , voice a low and smug drawl when he says, “Do you want me, Outsider?”

“Don’t be audacious, Corvo.”

“Then why else are you here, in my bed, asking me about other men?” Corvo asks, leaning closer, mouth bare inches from the Outsider’s jaw.

He should scold Corvo, punish him for his impudence, but he cannot find it in himself.

 _He’s beautiful_ , the Outsider thinks, and he hates himself for it.

The man is a simple bodyguard displaced by the workings of the occult savagery within Daud and the sinister, power-hungry wishes of Hiram Burrows. Corvo Attano is a man who was in love with the love of his life and the simplicity of being by her side as he cared for their daughter. He does not have any place in Corvo’s life. He is not the missing puzzle piece, rather he intrudes like a sore thorn in Corvo’s side. He wants him anyway.

“You’re right,” the Outsider says, grabbing Corvo’s jacket and pulling him with him as he lays down onto the bed. “I _am_ bored.”

Corvo looks down at him, his hair falling along his cheeks. He looks thoughtful. He keeps one hand braced on the bed and moves the other up to touch the Outsider’s jaw, pressing his thumb to his lower lip.

“That’s too bad,” Corvo says finally, pulling away and standing up.

The Outsider feels immediately cold as Corvo moves away. His body is warm, radiates heat, and he wants Corvo’s skin pressed to his own. Desire; he was never meant to have it. The rejection stings, and the Outsider ignores it as he sits up on the bed, fisting his hands into Corvo’s bedsheets.

“Where are you going?”

Corvo looks at him, but doesn’t answer. He raises his hands to sign out what he’s saying.

“ _The Tower, where it all started_.”  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Corvo kills Morris Sullivan, the Royal Executioner, the Torturer, whatever sadistic title he prefers to go by. He left the pet wolfhound unharmed. With the wolfhound out of the picture, Corvo challenges the Torturer to a one-on-one fight. It is a messy and drawn-out affair, and Corvo ends it by sinking his blade into his throat. He watches as Morris falls over, gurgling and choking on his own blood until he is lifeless at Corvo’s bloody feet. Corvo stares at the altar afterwards in silence, as if contemplating something.

He holds up his Marked hand and uses his Windblast ability, smashing the wooden altar into pieces and tearing the purple fabric to shreds.

“You never liked him much anyway, did you?”

He doesn’t wait to see if the Outsider will deign to respond to him, turning promptly on his heels and leaving the Torturer’s chambers.

Despite his decision to kill Morris, Corvo does not kill the Lord Regent.

Instead, he airs the tape of his crimes. Over the sound of the rain on brick walls and concrete pavement, all across Dunwall, the Lord Regent can be heard rambling about his complicity in engineering the Rat Plague. The people of Dunwall are tired, starving, and sick, but knowing that the Lord Regent has been ousted from the throne, they can sleep a little easier tonight. Corvo slips out amidst the chaos as they arrest the Lord Regent, unseen, tucking himself into the shadows easily.

The Outsider sits on the stool, legs crossed, arms folded on the table in front of him. He rests his chin on his arms as he watches Corvo escape Dunwall Tower, quiet and efficient. He reminds him of Daud in his younger days. Daud was interesting to him so many years ago because despite being assassin-for-hire, something was still deeply human about him, unlike in Vera Moray. It showed in the way he took in street kids and raised them as though they were his own blood.

But Daud became boring because then he killed no longer for justice but for money.

Corvo’s hands remain… mostly unsoiled. The Outsider can hardly find fault in Corvo for wanting to kill Morris. The torture he suffered at the hands of the man himself aside, Corvo probably had no love for the man’s reputation for senseless cruelty and violence.

Corvo is on his way back to the Houndpits Pub now, swaying with Samuel’s boat as the waves push against it. The Outsider suddenly feels exhausted. He lays his head down on his arms and closes his eyes.

And then, he sleeps.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
“Did you pack the gift?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in my suitcase,” Corvo responds. He folds the last of his clothes and tucks it into the case. He eyes the Outsider’s suitcase next to his, frowning. “You know Karnaca is hot nearly all year round, right?”

“Please, Corvo,” the Outsider says, thumbing through the last of the paperwork on his desk, “You know how easily I burn. The less exposed skin I have, the less burns I will have.”

Corvo hums, noncommittal. There’s the click of him closing the suitcase. “Are you ready to leave?”

The Outsider looks up from his reports, turning his attention to Corvo. He is older, gray streaks in his now short hair and beard, wrinkles and laughter lines etched onto his face. He is beautiful, albeit different somehow. Corvo laughs at his staring.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

Something _is_ wrong, the Outsider thinks, but he can’t put his finger on it. He shakes his head. He is overthinking. He gets up from his seat to pace over to look at his suitcase, still open on the bed.

Corvo runs a hand through his hair when he gets close, lips curled up just barely in a fond smile.

The Outsider huffs at him, shoves his hand away from his hair and turns to the mirror to rearrange his hair. He looks at himself in the mirror, green eyes staring back.

Oh.

  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The Outsider wakes with a start, reeling backwards. He staggers to his feet, knocking the chair down behind him. His head hurts, a splitting headache, sharp pain that cuts straight through him. The Void feels his alarm, shifts and shakes beneath him. The black rocks of the Void start to collide with one another, rupturing into smoke and dust. The whales swimming in the ocean space start to thrash about and wail as if in pain. He can hear the spirits so so so so far away in the Ritual Hold, screaming and crying.

The Outsider staggers again, placing one hand on the table to steady himself. He squeezes his eyes shut, presses his other hand to his forehead, breathes, and concentrates. Slowly, the ground beneath his feet stills and the moaning of the whales in the background quiets. The echoes of lonely spirits in the Ritual Hold fades.

The Outsider is not supposed to dream. He is not supposed to sleep.

In fact, he thought he was incapable of sleeping. He looks down at his own hands, trembling uncontrollably, fingers twitching. The god of the Void does not dream— what he sees are always reflections of something real or something that has the possibility to become real. He can see future timelines and parallel universes.

And in one universe, he is a facsimile of a human, in Dunwall’s Royal Court, fifteen years into the future, and he is the Royal Spymaster to Corvo’s Royal Protector.

And—

The Outsider looks down at his left hand, at his trembling fingers. His normal rings are on his pinky and his index finger. In the dream—

The whales start crying again, disturbed. The Outsider shakes his head but still feels cloudy-headed. He rubs his hands over his face, exhausted. He looks out into the Void ocean, sees the whales swimming in circles, distraught.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

The whales continue crying as the Void opens up. The Void reveals to him a moving picture of Corvo, unconscious in a boat, watched carefully by the Whalers as they sail through the Flooded District. Ah. Well, there’s more pressing issues now, aren’t there?

The Outsider flexes his fingers by his side. He’s intervened once, but doing so again, especially with the Whalers and Daud watching, is not an option. He can see the split futures, ones where Corvo survives, ones where Corvo dies, ones where he is sold as a bounty back to what remains of the Lord Regent’s fractured regime. He cannot see which one is most likely and the harder he looks, the more muddy the images get, blurred, shrouded, until all he can see is the present moment.

Corvo shifts in the boat, groaning.

The Outsider cannot know what the future holds with blurred images obscuring his visions. He clenches his hand into a fist. He cannot meddle without knowing the consequences.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
Corvo chooses to spare Daud.

Yet another outcome the Outsider had not expected. He had thought that with Corvo’s willingness to kill the Torturer that he would not spare Daud any mercy either. But something remains kind in Corvo’s heart, even with the anger and sadness and bitterness beneath his skin, stuck in his ribcage.

Something human still remains.

Corvo fascinates him.

The Outsider falls ever further from his throne of black slate. He falls ever further from being Keeper of the Void.  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
The whales sing quietly in the background as the Outsider bends the Void to his will. He reaches his hand out, touching the fabric of the Beyond. It ripples under his fingers and he grasps it, pulling on it. It starts to tear open, revealing a smattering of images behind it. He has never done this before.

The Outsider has always known that he has the ability to view parallel universes, but he has never tried to make contact with himself. There is no universe in which he isn’t made the Outsider. A sad thing to dwell on another day. The other Outsider he saw in his… dream, if it can be called that, was an Outsider fifteen, sixteen years into the future. Married to Corvo and living as a human.

The Beyond parts for him as he pulls the fabric back further. He glimpses that other Outsider again now, as though seeing him through the window of a dollhouse. The fabric of the Beyond in his hand feels heavier the harder he pulls on it. The other Outsider seems to have sensed the intrusion. He’s at a party in Karnaca with Corvo and kisses his cheek, murmuring an excuse before he slips from Corvo’s side. In a dark corner of the room, he vanishes back into the Void and—

The glass-like film covering the scene ruptures as a hand reaches through it and grabs the fabric, using it as an anchor. The other Outsider pulls himself through the rift, head emerging, eyes closed. Eventually, he steps fully through the rift and stands in the Void, on solid ground.

“Outsider,” he greets, a low hum as he opens his eyes. “You can call me Tethys,” he says, smiling as he tucks his hands behind himself. “We’re the same, but at the same time… not. Circumstances seem to have played out a little differently.”

‘Tethys’... yes, that’s his chosen human name. It feels weird on his tongue when he repeats it. It’s not his true name, not the one carved into Corvo’s flesh. But the name suits him anyway. Suits _this_ Outsider in front of him.

“What has Corvo done?” Tethys asks him, tilting his head at him.

“How do you know that this is necessarily about Corvo?”

“Because it’s always about him for us,” Tethys answers easily, smiling again, “Corvo Attano is remarkably special, something I’m sure you’ve realized. He makes the whales cry and the Void tremble. He is irrevocably tied to our existence.”

The Outsider looks away. Of course, even a parallel version of himself would know what’s going on.

Tethys shifts his weight on his feet, humming, “I see your timeline’s Corvo has just restored Emily to the throne. There are so many more years to go, you know.”

The Outsider looks up to see Tethys watching Corvo in Dunwall Tower, following Emily around as she goes to meeting after meeting and begins the painstaking process of rebuilding Dunwall from the ground up. He seems thoughtful as he watches.

“I don’t think my Corvo was quite as… rough around the edges. He is a bit more brash and callous than I know him. In the end, it makes no difference.” Tethys closes the image, turning back to him. “In his core, he is still the same man and trust me when I say he will come to want you.”

“I cannot see his future,” the Outsider says after a moment. “It is obscured.”

That comment actually makes Tethys smile wide, green eyes brightening in good humor. “Then the wheels of fate are already turning, Outsider.”  
  
  
  
~*~  
  
  
  
“Here you are again,” Corvo says, his voice carefully neutral as he looks upon the Outsider’s visage in his bedroom, sitting on his bed.

He looks at him briefly before turning back to his dresser, hooking his sword and pistol up next to his jacket.

The Outsider crosses his legs. “Most people would—”

“I am not _most_ people, leviathan,” Corvo counters, throwing a half-smile at him over his shoulder. “This is what drew you to me in the first place, is it not?”

“You’re brazen,” the Outsider says, but he cannot find it in himself to be angry or offended. “You would not have taken your kingdom back if not for my powers.”

“And so you expect thanks?” Corvo shuts his dresser door. His expression is amused. “I will not carve you runes and leave them at your shrines, scattered throughout Dunwall. Or are you lonely?”

“You don’t speak much, and when you do, you are arrogant.”

Corvo huffs, lips curled in a grin. He seems relaxed as he stretches his arms above his head. “You are here in my bedroom again. I think I should know my worth.”

The Outsider stays quiet. To him, there remains many questions. Tethys seemed so sure that there was nothing wrong with wanting Corvo, with wanting to be human. After all, he had made it work just fine. The Outsider wonders if there are too many differences, even as small as they are, between their timelines, for there to be the same outcomes.

“There are no happy endings, not for people like me,” he says finally, feeling suddenly cold, tired, and stupid. He should not want. It is as simple as that.

“You’re a god,” Corvo says slowly, puzzled. Brilliant, resourceful. But so innocent about the dark occult and the workings of the worshippers of the Void. “Why would you not be able to create one?”

“Corvo, dear, sweet Corvo,” the Outsider croons, his tone mocking now, “you know so little. Far, far away in the mountains of Karnaca, wretched slaves of the Void made me a god by draining my blood and taking my name away. I was meant to be a hollow doll, the Keeper of the Void. There are no endings at all, for me.”

“What do _you_ want?” Corvo asks, suddenly fierce. He steps closer, expression determined. He has taken the Outsider’s words personally, viewing it as his own problem to be solved now. “You have free will to decide. No one has the right to stop you. What do you want, Outsider?”

“I will never be human,” the Outsider spits out. The words taste bitter on his tongue. “It is that simple.”

Corvo paces closer until he sits down next to the Outsider, but he does not speak, instead waiting expectantly for the Outsider to continue. He looks up at Corvo, feels how his eyes tingle, and wonders if this is what it felt like for Tethys. He breathes deep, lets himself feel the bed beneath him, the fabric of the sheets against his fingers. Corvo’s close and his body is warm. The Outsider craves the idea of Corvo’s body heat, of his warm fingers twined with his own cold ones.

Corvo’s eyes widen.

His mouth feels dry. “What color are my eyes, Corvo?” he asks, voice quiet, almost inaudible.

“Green.”

“Corvo,” the Outsider whispers, and he hates that he adores him so much.

He frames his hands around Corvo’s face without touching him— he doesn’t dare touch him. Corvo’s skin will be warm, and the warmth will feed into his own ice cold skin, and Corvo will make him _wanting_.

Corvo grasps one of his hands and the warmth from his fingers feels good— feels _right_. He presses the Outsider’s hand down into the mattress again, between their thighs, the weight of his hand on top grounding, _real_. He thinks about what Tethys told him, about how he shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting things. That he was human first before he was an immortal god. Was it really so selfish to want the life he never got four thousand years ago?

And so, Corvo Attano has seduced not only his beloved Empress, but also a fickle creature like himself.

“There are endings for everyone,” Corvo replies. “Even for lonely gods on their thrones of slate, surrounded by the whales of the Void.”

And when Corvo squeezes his hand, the Outsider thinks it’s not so selfish after all.

“Yes,” the Outsider says faintly, “even for lonely gods on their thrones of slate, surrounded by the whales of the Void.”


End file.
